Wait until you see what happens next

Starry Night Over the Rhone by Vincent van Gogh.
An infinity of stars suggests an infinity of choices.

This entry is dedicated to the memory of Mike Edwards.

Lately I have been reminded that life has many lessons to teach me. I may have been guilty of thinking that so far as my own life goes, I'd got things sorted. Not necessarily that I knew it all, but certainly that I understood roughly how all the different pieces fitted together.

I was wrong, of course. My sense of equilibrium, my feeling that my life was being lived in harmony, was knocked sideways by events over which I had no control. And that idea - of control - is one of the big illusions in life. Oh sure, we can decide to have another cup of coffee, drive a different route to work, or aim for the pinnacles of success in politics or business or whatever, but the truth is that there are so many other factors in this thing we call life that can determine the outcome of what we set out to do.

There are no guarantees in life that the choices we make will be the right ones and, in any case, how could we know that they were? We cannot, we just make a choice, hope, and see events unfold during which time we will make more choices and more events will unfold.

Which brings me to Mike Edwards. He was the cellist with the Electric Light Orchestra back in the 1970s, but he left to follow other musical interests. He also worked as a delivery driver which was how he came to be driving a van along a road in South Devon when a massive round bale of hay rolled down the hillside, hit the van and killed him. A few seconds either way in his journey, or if the hay bale had been placed slightly differently, and maybe none of it would have happened.

In other words, choices were made, the outcomes of which were not what were expected or hoped for. We follow certain courses of action, hoping or believing that things will be all right, but sometimes, often, (or even always) the result is different.

And that is how it is for all of us, which should at the very least make us all a bit more humble and less ready to condemn as we try to find our way through life. I know it has for me.

Technological difficulties overcome.

Sedate rocking.

Here at last is the picture I wanted to put up earlier this week of my rocking and rolling night out on Wednesday. This couple are not rocking and rolling, but I think they did enjoy themselves. I should confess that I took this picture while I was sitting on a comfy chair filched from the VIP tent. Between the couple and just visible in the distance is the raucous singer from Gang Of Thieves who kept asking us if we were having a good time. Well, what do you think?










As I said in that last posting, I had some yummy beer and here is the picture of the pump clip that I wanted to put up on Wednesday. I love it when a plan comes together, albeit slowly.

Mmm, beer.

Now I've written the word beer, I quite fancy drinking some, but it might have to wait as I have tasks to complete before it's beer o'clock.

We came, we saw, we rocked...and then we had a little sit down

Everywhere you go in North Devon there's a real buzz about the Atlantic Watersports Games Contest Competition thing. What do you mean...am I telling lies? OK, so I haven't been everywhere in North Devon and I'm not really a very good judge of "buzz", but anyway things are happening, stuff is going on and I'd sooner this was happening than not happening. And so it was that the ever-loving and I decided to venture to Bideford Quay - on a Wednesday, the low water mark of the week - to see live music played by real live people on a stage in front of an audience consisting of real live people, well, they'd got themselves there somehow.

All I can say is hats off to any musician who gets up and performs in front of an audience, some of whom might be regarded as clinically dead, in Bideford on a Wednesday night. First on were some rockers called Gang Of Thieves. They batterered themselves into a frenzy with a few metal covers and certainly gave 100 per cent, possibly even a footballer's 110 per cent and maybe even more.

And this was the result: (I was going to put a little picture here, but due to technical matters beyond my control, I have had to abandon that idea).

So we watched the rockers and then we saw a bit of Beth Funning - very sweet and very popular - and I decided the time had come to drink some beer. So a short hop to the White Hart and a couple of pints of Dark Horse from the Forge Brewery at Hartland. Yummy it was, too. I don't go in for descriptions of burnt toffee and wet dog. It was nice, try some. There was going to be a little pic of the pump clip so you would know what to look out for, but technical reasons got here first. Maybe later.

After our short beer break we went back to the quay where a young woman and some skinny boys with guitars were a-howling and a-wailing. We called it a night and headed for home, having first circumnavigated a small group of Welsh competitors from the Atlantic what-not who seemed intent on hugging a rubbish bin. One young man was wearing a  women's swimming costume over his normal clothes. This time no picture, but I bet he shows up somewhere on Facebook.

Anyway, that's my big night out, in Bideford, on a Wednesday - whatever next?

I can't stand the rain

That's the title of a song by Ann Peebles. Great, idiosyncratic delivery which ramps up the power as it goes. It is also my state of mind. I am fed up with the rain (not such a good song title) and while I am not particularly a believer in some of the sayings and saws that many people hold so dear, I am beginning to wonder if the picture below might have some bearing on our weather.

Rain...on St Swithin's Day

You see, that photograph was taken while rain was lashing down on July 15, St Swithin's Day, which is reputed to mean that we are in for 40 days of rain thereafter. It's Monday now and it's rained every day since Friday. To be honest, I really can't be arsed to record whether or not we get rain every day until nearly the end of August, but I wouldn't be surprised...or something. End of weather forecast.
PS My dog is acting funny, I wonder if that is anything to do with the weather.

Keep right on to the end of the road

The Green Lantern Café, Torrington.

To the Green Lantern Café in the Square at Torrington where we are served by a most venerable gent who is an absolute star. Despite being a bit deaf - all right, very deaf - and needing his reading glasses to see the menu, which he didn't appear to have with him, he's keen as mustard and ready to give good service. Sometimes I think I just want to jack in work, but then I see someone like the lovely waiter at the Green Lantern Café who clearly is eager to be of service and I think that might be preferable. Certainly better than sitting at home wishing for some company. Anyway, we had two excellent cream teas (one served with good strong coffee), baked beans on toast and a can of pop. So that's three people catered for...and the cost? I am almost embarrassed to say it was only £5.80. I'm not complaining, just marvelling.

Gone, the last News of the World.

As a complete aside, we are one week on from the last News of the World and I don't really think there is much I can add to the millions of words that are being spewed out about the whole sorry saga. All I would say is that those people who think the demise of the NOTW and the problems besetting the Murdoch empire signal some sort of massive change in public life are likely to be seriously disappointed. Don't forget the banking collapse and the MPs' expenses scandal. Life for most of those two groups of chancers seems to go on pretty much as per usual. Just a thought...

Guilty as charged

Gah! Where does the time go? Last posting I said I was going to do all sorts of things like get pictures and stuff and then...nothing...since February. It does make me seem a little ineffectual. Good job nobody is relying on me to save the world. I had been chasing down the idiots who run the country to point out where they could save us all a few bob and, for the time being, I've let them get away. Anyway, now I'm back on the case. My first task is to point out to that twat Cameron and his feeble-minded associate Osborne (not to mention whipping-boy Clegg) that not to reply properly to my perfectly reasonable letters is very rude.

What a bunch of bankers

It seems my wizard wheeze to get the bailed-out banks to pay back what they owe the taxpayer might not be as straightforward as I had hoped. I never thought it would be easy, but it was based on a logical premise, in my view, and although I haven’t yet heard back from the PM or the Chancellor, things have taken a dodgy turn.

It turns out that some banks have given bucket-loads of cash to the Conservatives. Who’d have thought it? Banks supporting the Tories, whatever next? If someone gives money to a political party the obvious question is why? Small amounts from individuals can, I suppose, be regarded as a tangible form of ideological support. But large sums of money are rarely handed over to political parties without an expectation of some form of payback.

Whether the banks consider the money they “spent” with Cameron and his crew to be offering good value remains to be seen. Earlier this week, the Government announced Project Merlin (where do they get these fuck-witted names from?) which attempts to encourage more lending by banks while at the same time curbing bankers’ bonuses. Not convinced? Neither am I. What is it the amorously inclined gent said to his girlfriend? Something along the lines of “Don’t worry, I’ll only put it in an inch.”

PS I’m thinking of adding pictures and all sorts to this blog. Oh God, it’ll be marvellous – or something.